The Legacy of Paneau: Release
by Sile Crowley
Summary: Sequel to LOP: Resilience. Horatio Sheridan makes a devastating discovery, forever changing his life's mission. Occurs 4.5 APC - 6 APC.
1. Chapter 1

"Everything I've done...for the past twenty years...has been for her."

It was the strangest feeling, hearing my voice, hearing my own confession I had sworn to myself time and time again to never speak aloud. I especially never expected to share it with my present...company.

"She was one _vehry_ lucky woman."

Wyliaa's delicate breath at my ear contrasted sharply with her heavy accent, one I hadn't heard in quite some time. Her light hand slid just as carefully across my chest and up the side of my neck, coming to rest with her palm against my jaw. Even in the room's dim lighting, her rutian skin still sparkled with an iridescent sheen. She had put on her favorite seduction powder for me.

"Wyliaa..."

With a soft, sweeping movement, she brushed her lips against my cheek, planting a gentle kiss just beside my mouth. "'Oratio... 'ow long have we known each ozher? You know better zhan to use my full name." A small, teasing smile spread across her face. "Only my clients 'ave to do zhat."

I humored her, if only to keep her in good spirits. "Liaa." Content, she continued planting small kisses down my neck, but I knew my next question would stop them. "If I'm not your client...then what am I?"

She slowly lifted her head back up to me, her lekku gracefully falling back behind her shoulders. "I zhought...zhat you were a friend. You say, you need someone to talk to. So, I come. I am 'ere to listen. If we do more zhan...talking...for you, zhere will be no charge."

I'd never known her to be so...generous. "Your time is worth more than that, Liaa."

She grinned slyly. "Per'aps. But I do not always 'ave to be working. Wizh you," she added as she tightly wrapped an arm around my waist, sitting even more closely against me, "it would not be a job."

Enticing as her offer was, I knew it would only prolong my unhappiness. The void was not Liaa's to fill, but then, it really couldn't be filled by anyone...

"You are 'urting," she observed quietly, her amber eyes searching mine so keenly. Surely she wasn't reading my emotional state; maybe I had accidentally winced when she embraced me.

"Just a few bruises, nothing some bacta couldn't -"

"No, somezhing 'appened. Zhat is why you need to talk."

For a twi'lek who specialized and definitely excelled in putting men of all species at ease for a living, she was beginning to have the opposite effect on me. I _couldn't_ have been that transparent.

But apparently my reaction was. "Why do you look at me like zhat? You say, you spend twenty years for 'er. And now you are sad. It is not difficult to zhink zhat whatever 'appen to 'er make you sad."

I swallowed hard, deciding how best to leave Liaa's snare. I couldn't tell her; she was practically a stranger, no more versed in my past than what little I had told her. And even then, most of that had been an outright lie to provide some cover in case Tzymo's thugs were still after me. I had been the one to spill my secret so readily, though, whether I had consciously intended to or not, and maybe it was for the best. I certainly couldn't go to Zanti anymore, and Kil had yet to make good on her threat to kill me on our next meeting...but I wasn't about to give her the chance.

I really had no other option.

"I couldn't save her," I eventually managed just above a whisper, staring straight ahead into the darkness of the surrounding room. My voice shook, but I was sure Liaa had already noticed my trembling as tightly as she was still holding me. "All my work...all my digging, all my efforts to find her and help her...and it wasn't enough. I was too late."

Though I fully expected her to no longer have any interest in me, much less in how I was feeling, Liaa surprised me yet again. "Oh, 'Oratio... Your 'eart is so 'eavy." With only the slightest of pressure, she rested her chin on my shoulder, her face tilted up towards mine. If it hadn't been dead silent in our small room, I may not have heard her. "I want to make it lighter for you. Tell me...'ow did it 'appen?"

Reliving the discovery was only going to deepen my sorrow, so I had to work up to it. But where was I to start with the most painful, drawn-out event in my life?

"The last time I saw her alive," I hesitantly began, "...was the beginning of the end."


	2. Chapter 2

I'll never forget that bizarre feeling of waking up from a Force-induced sleep. Kil had done it to me once before during one of our lengthy Huxnel missions, but that had been years ago, and I honestly expected to wake up after this particular mission missing half of my body. We had inserted ourselves into a spicer group with the intent of gaining access to its leader, but it had gone so horribly wrong so quickly, I couldn't even venture to guess where we had screwed up. We had very nearly paid for it with our lives; if it hadn't been for the determination of Kil's husband to find her...we'd still be sitting there today, rotting away on that asteroid.

Despite being at each other's throats for the entirety of our seven-month op, the last I thought I'd seen of Kil was...bittersweet. She had saved my life, again, and without asking, again, and she seemed to be genuinely sorry for how badly the op had turned out. As if it had been her fault. Maybe it had been, but she wouldn't have told me so, even if I'd had the will to ask. Though I expected a verbal thrashing for the mutual abuse we'd both suffered and doled out, I left Paneau without being harassed at all. No one tried to interrogate me, or blame me for what had happened, though frankly, I didn't give them the chance. As soon as my ship was cleared to leave Dalon's spaceport, and as soon as I could focus my eyes through my lingering concussion, I hit hyperspace like a fugitive smuggler.

Once free, I wandered for months. I had to make sure I hadn't picked up any tails, either from the Huxnel or Tzymo Labs, but I also had to decide what to do next. I had met my nephew Max, Recero's oldest son, while incarcerated by the spicers, and with that I could at least report back to her that he was alright. Treated poorly by his father, but somehow the boy knew how to survive. That was all she wanted, to know that Max was okay, but I had tried to do more...and I had failed.

Tzymo wanted Max, too, for reasons I couldn't fathom. I hadn't responded to his transmission that offered an obscene amount of credits for the kid, so surely by now the deranged scientist had set a bounty on me instead. That meant I couldn't get anywhere near his operations on Coruscant, Nar Shadaa, Tatooine, or Malastare...which was where Tzymo was keeping Recero like a lab rat.

I must have made more than a dozen attempts to circumvent Tzymo's security on that compound. It was pure dumb luck that I had been able to avoid detection when I landed on Malastare in the first place, and that luck ran out the second I tried to break into the building the same way I had before. Recero owned the building, but Tzymo must have sealed up every ventilation shaft and access point after I had gotten past his guards the first time. I could no longer see into the compound like I had before, so I had no way of knowing what kind of activity, if any, was going on inside. I observed for weeks, maybe even months, and there was very little traffic in or out, save for a few meager shipments of food. Recero had to still be there, I just knew, and I had to find a way to get inside.

But I had to wait even longer. Bribing any of Tzymo's guards was far out of the question; they'd probably been ordered to kill me on sight. Though it took another two precious months, I was finally able to figure out the schedule of food deliveries and where they came from. With that, I arranged to get myself smuggled inside a cargo container into the compound. It cost me a considerable amount of credits, mostly credits I didn't have. I knew it wouldn't be a...comfortable trip, either, and maybe it would only be one way, but I was determined to do anything I could to get to her. Hopefully, it would be enough, and hopefully, I would be able to stay under Tzymo's radar.

What I didn't expect, though, was to leave the cramped container, dehydrated, hypoxic, and exhausted, to find the compound _completely_ empty around me.


	3. Chapter 3

At first, I was sure the freighters had delivered their extra cargo to the wrong place. The room was brightly lit and unnaturally warm from Malastare's sweltering environment outside, both completely opposite from the dark and frigid feel it'd had before. But the more I looked around, the more I realized that it was the same compound, the exact same room I had last seen Recero in, and there was nothing left but the bare walls. No bed, no tables, no equipment, no Bex, no Recero. If Tzymo had moved her, why had he wasted so many resources to keep up appearances?

It was the perfect trap, however, and I should have seen it coming. Resigned to my fate, I awaited Tzymo's mercenaries, expecting them to storm the compound at any moment...but they never came.

Maybe they were waiting for my guard to come down. I had gotten into the compound unarmed, but surely they knew that I was still able to defend myself well without a weapon. So if they weren't going to attack me immediately, that meant I had precious little time to search the other rooms for clues as to where Tzymo had taken my sister.

I moved swiftly and cautiously from room to room, but each one was the same: empty, hot, and barren. Where were all those shipments I had watched coming in for weeks? Where were the guards and lab personnel I had seen milling about the compound? They had been in and out at regular intervals, taking shifts outside in the searing heat. I hadn't registered any indication that Tzymo was shutting down his operations there, so I found myself...lost.

But I wasn't nearly as lost then as when I dumbly stumbled into the last vacant room on the ground floor...and met Recero's holoimage, standing full figure in front of me.

Like she had been waiting for me.

Sensing another trap, I looked around for sentry turrets or disguised explosives, but I saw nothing that set off more alarms in my head. Without meaning to, I stepped closer to her, transfixed by her hard gaze that was so familiar, almost endearing, though it had been years since I had last seen her.

"Hello, Horatio," she began quietly. She seemed hesitant, so much so I wasn't entirely sure if I was seeing a recording or a live transmission. Her next sentence, though, sealed my chest into solid permacrete.

"If you're listening to this message...then my disease has run its course, and I am gone."

I could have collapsed on the spot. Somehow I retained the strength of stand, listening to the rest of her message through a strange, muddled filter.

"Four years is a long time to fight, and my body's giving up before I can stop it. I know you'll blame yourself, but I don't. This was not your fault. Seeing you again gave me hope I thought I no longer had, and though I only got worse after you left to find Max, I felt more...at peace. You risked a lot getting to me. I know you only got tangled up with Tzymo to find me, but at least this way...Tzymo can't hold me over your head anymore.

"I know you found Max. And I know you intended to bring him to me, but Soran had stopped you and your friend. If it hadn't been for Max, you would have died on that asteroid at Soran's command." She smiled, somewhat sadly but with a hint of pride. "Max created a diversion that took Soran's group away from the Paneau Sector. He sent a message to his father that he had been kidnapped for ransom, and Soran wasted little time in chasing after him." Pausing a moment, she gave me a stern look. "I sure hope that wasn't your idea."

Though in my head, I knew it was only a recording, I had to answer her. I shook my head faintly, even more amazed at Max's ingenuity and survival skills. The kid had effectively saved my life twice, and then he had outsmarted one of the most ruthless spice dealers in the Outer Rim? He was definitely Recero's son.

"I hope you won't be upset with me," she continued somberly, "but I had to make a difficult decision before I was able to speak to you again. I sent my son Aalon to live with another family, a close business partner of my late husband's. I...I couldn't ask you to take him...I just couldn't, not without knowing for _sure_ that Tzymo would leave you alone once I died. He will be well taken care of, I've been assured, so please...don't try to follow him.

"I have a feeling Max will find you again, but not until his father relinquishes his hold on him. I know Tzymo had put a bounty out on Max, so don't go looking for him, either, or Tzymo will punish you."

The look in her sullen eyes wasn't hard to interpret; she genuinely regretted her mandate, knowing how much it would pain me to accept it. She was right, though, as much as I didn't want to admit it. I would have to disappear, even more so than I had before. I would have to become _completely_ invisible.

"I'm sorry things have ended up this way. I'm sorry I've left the score unsettled. I owe you another favor for what you've brought me in my final months, and I'm afraid all I can offer you is monetary. Find Bex; he will have the location of my remaining assets. Part of it will be saved for Aalon when he is old enough to use it, and some will be Max's when he is able to return here, looking for me. What's left is yours, and I hope you can use it well.

"If you hadn't stopped me all those years ago on Coruscant...I know that both our lives would be very different right now. Maybe I wouldn't have caught this disease. Or maybe neither of us would have survived past our teens, as much trouble as we got ourselves into. I'm sure I never would have gotten as far as I did without your help, and though telling you my appreciation now as a final goodbye may mean very little, it's all I can do. You still might not believe it, but you _are _a good person, Horatio. No one, not even Tzymo can take that away from you. Be careful and take care of yourself... Someone will need you when you least expect it."


	4. Chapter 4

When her figure disappeared, I still saw her outline, the blue glow of the holo burned into my eyes for what felt like an eternity. It may have been an hour or two before I consciously felt my chest moving, taking in breaths I wasn't aware of. At some point, I had lowered myself to the floor, and I sat motionlessly in the middle of the room, staring at the empty air where my sister's form had been.

I wanted to believe I had imagined the whole thing, or that it had all been fabricated by Tzymo for...some reason. My mind refused to function in my shock and denial.

Recero couldn't be dead. Tzymo cared more about solving the puzzle of her disease than anything. Not for her sake or for mine, but because his deranged scientific curiosity demanded that he figure it out. All his illicit dealings and investments and operations funded his labs for this very purpose; he didn't solve illnesses to promote galactic peace, but to pad his own ego, that he had cracked the code when no one else could. In any of his endeavors, he had never failed.

Until now.

I must have stayed in that room for a day or more, no longer concerned for myself. I had no more motivation, no more reason to do much of anything. Tzymo could've had me tortured to death over many months in any terrible fashion he fancied, and I wouldn't have cared. I had no feeling left, no will to move, until I heard a very familiar, unwelcome pair of footsteps approaching me from behind. Even then, I could only lift my head to look up at him as he stepped around in front of me.

To my surprise, Tzymo was completely alone.

"Mr. Sheridan," he addressed me blankly. "I did not expect you to return."

I felt bile rising from my stomach without warning. I had never so despised the sound of a particular voice before that it instantly fired up a violent rage deep within me. I had apparently already reached my "anger" stage of grief.

"I'm sure you've noticed that your sister is no longer here. Unfortunately, her disease moved rather quickly in its later stages, and my labs were unable to complete an antidote in time. As I am only able to work with live specimens to observe the entire effect one ailment has on a life form, my research is at an end until another subject can be located."

The cold, droid-like detachment of Tzymo's demeanor was nothing new, but with Recero dead, it was little less than a taunt, as though he were goading me into attacking him. Why else would he have approached me alone? He may have been an emotionless drone himself, but he knew very well the irrational and unpredictable reactions of those under duress. He had studied that extensively, he'd informed me several times before. And so confident in his empirical knowledge, he'd boasted he could predict my reactions on more than one occasion. So did he expect me to remain seated in front of him, docile in defeat? How desperately I wanted to prove him wrong...

But what would that accomplish? It wouldn't bring Recero back, and it would only leave me feeling even more empty. No, I'd have to take my revenge some other way. Some way he wouldn't expect or predict.

As unpredictable as he was, though, I still didn't expect what he said next.

"Also, as I no longer hold any means of bargaining for your compliance or for your cooperation, I am releasing you of your ties to Tzymo Labs. You are no longer in my employ."

I remember I physically shook my head, convinced my ears were suddenly dysfunctional.

"You're...releasing me? Just like that?"

Tzymo appeared undaunted. "You will no longer be of any use to me. And as you were involved in and made aware of very little of my operations, you cannot deal any kind of damage to my organization, no matter what or to whom you may tell. You served your purpose, Mr. Sheridan. There is nothing more."

Again I couldn't breathe. I expected a sentence of incarceration, torture, or death, not this.

"You wish to argue against your release?"

It took me a moment to find my voice again. "No."

"Then we have nothing more to discuss," Tzymo said as he turned squarely on his heel and stepped away. "I trust I don't have to tell you that this will be our final meeting. If I do see you again, my guards will not hesitate to kill. Goodbye, Mr. Sheridan. Our arrangement was most profitable."


	5. Chapter 5

I knew it was too good to be true when I began to smell smoke.

It was almost too late when I came to my senses; the blaze had already engulfed most of the first floor, leaving me with few options for escape. I remembered an internal ventilation shaft that Bex had pointed out to me on my previous visit, but would it get me to the upper floors in time?

The smoke thickened rapidly, choking me and making my eyes water as I searched for and found the vent. Tzymo had it sealed, as well, but through sheer force of will and a powerful adrenalin rush, I ripped the grate off and tossed it aside, proceeding upwards as quickly as I could. Thick, black smoke followed me faster than I could outrun it, and I was quickly becoming lightheaded as I coughed and gasped. Finally reaching the second floor, I kicked my way into the nearest room...to find that the power had been cut to the entire building, sealing all of the doors shut. Without a lightsaber or any decent amount of time to rework the wiring, my only option was to continue climbing up. If I could find a connecting room with a window, I might be able to break out that way.

I climbed, and searched, and climbed again, still finding only closed rooms. My last resort was the top floor, the fifth, but if it had the same floor plan as the previous four, I was doomed.

I practically fell from the vent shaft onto the floor, beginning to lose the ability to control my limbs in my severe oxygen deprivation. My lungs burned fiercely, refusing to take in toxic air but desperate for fresh breath, and I knew I had only minutes left. What I could see through my blurred, obstructed vision wasn't good. The room looked exactly the same as the ones I had just left, and I couldn't have been more than ninety seconds from death. Before panic truly set in and before the smoke took me, though, I felt something hard hit my head with a loud crash, and I was out.

* * *

><p>Liaa looked horrified as she delicately brushed her fingers through my hair. "'Oratio! 'Ow terrible! 'Ow did you survive?"<p>

"I was rescued by...someone I'd never met."

Liaa furrowed her brows. "You never met zhem?"

"No, but she knew who I was. She had followed me."

Still keenly interested in my story, Liaa rested her head on my shoulder, awaiting more...

* * *

><p>When I woke up, I didn't know I could feel so horribly disoriented. I felt like I was going to be sick from the severe headache I had, and my chest felt like someone had stuffed chunks of embers down my airway and into my stomach. I coughed, like that would make it better, and when I was sure I had no other major injuries, I opened my eyes to find...her sitting beside me. I instantly recognized her, but in my haze I didn't know why.<p>

Blond, brown eyed, familiar. She looked sincerely interested in making sure I was okay as I came around. She remained silent, though, until I began to move to sit up from the floor. I couldn't tell where we were, but since nothing was on fire or billowing smoke around me any longer, I didn't much care.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, keenly studying my eye movement as I sat upright. I studied her in turn, and though I expected her name to come to me once my mind cleared a bit more, I couldn't bring anything to recall.

"Should I?"

"Tzymo sure made a show of getting rid of you. I got you out of that burning building, and just in time, too. The ceiling had partially collapsed onto you."

Frustrated with her avoidance of my question, I grumbled back at her. "What, do you want a reward?"

She shook her head. "No...I want your help."

"And what makes you think I'll give it to you?"

At that, she swallowed, choosing her response carefully as her expression became more solemn.

"You'll help me...because my name is Deilia Rys'tihn, and I have the same disease that killed your sister."


	6. Chapter 6

Rys'tihn.

Of course. No wonder she looked familiar.

But how did she know she had Recero's disease? No one but Tzymo had been able to identify it as an unstudied strain...

She read the expression on my face. "I was told it was the same by the woman who gave it to me," she answered my silent question. "I don't know for sure, and I haven't developed any symptoms yet, but...I _have _to get ahead of it before it slows me down. Please...I _need_ your help."

Something about her plea, maybe the desperation, or maybe the hint of demand in her voice, made me nothing but angry. I narrowed my eyes, stopping just short of yelling at her.

"I couldn't do anything to save my sister. Why do you think it'll be _any_ different for you?"

Surprising me, she seemed to expect my reaction. She remained composed as she dug something out of her jacket, watching me warily the entire time.

"Before the fire destroyed most of the equipment, I was able to make this." She held up a small datacard she had pulled from her pocket. "This is almost all of Tzymo's research. Well...a copy of it, anyway. He didn't secure his systems before he left, and he apparently didn't expect me to follow him. I made the copy...and then I found you, and that was no coincidence. I know you're not a scientist or a doctor, but you have contacts who are."

Even more enraged at her assumptions, I stood from the floor, ignoring the intensifying headache from my lingering concussion. I knew exactly to whom she was referring, and there was no way I'd get back in Dr. Vil's good graces after what I'd done to him...and to Koril.

"No," I managed as I struggled to steady myself on my feet. "No, that is not happening. Go home to your covert agents and your hordes of servants. You're not getting _anything_ from me."

The look on her face, while remaining calm through my rage, suddenly became...sad.

"I can't go home."

I blinked. Deilia was royalty on Paneau, part of one of the six ruling families. I had rescued her...brother, I assumed, years ago, though why I hadn't heard of her before, I wasn't sure.

"I left Paneau," she continued quietly, "so I could find help. I had to completely sever my ties so no one would be looking for me if my condition worsens, and I basically made myself an exile. I have no contacts, no resources, no friends...but I knew I needed to find you, or Tzymo, or Dr. Vil, if I could. Dr. Vil was my original target, since he had been the one to cure my brother of the Huxnel virus, but he's...gone to ground. Having Tzymo's research is another step closer, but please...I need you to help me find Dr. Vil."

I couldn't stand to listen to her pleading any longer. Though I had no idea where I was, or more importantly, where I was going, I just knew I had to leave.

"Goodbye."

My escape instincts kicking in, I walked out the only door I saw. It opened to a long, empty hallway, leading outside to a ferocious, roaring sandstorm. The suddenly arid air quickly drew my breath out of me against my will, and I instantly knew where I was.

Before I could tell what it was, before I could stop it, I saw Recero's form appearing in the swirling sands ahead of me, bringing me to a dead halt. Maybe it was my concussion, or maybe it was part of my grieving, but I couldn't blink her away. She looked just as she had the first and only time I had met her on Tatooine...the last time I had seen her before she had become so ill.

She didn't say anything as she gazed at me, but she didn't have to. I already knew what she wanted me to do.

I swallowed hard and released a heavy breath, pushing down all the warning bells in my head that only told me to keep going, to leave Deilia there and to not get involved again. I slowly turned around to face the room I'd just left, keeping my voice low with humility that even I wasn't expecting.

"Deilia..."

But as I looked up, expecting to see her still standing there...she was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

"Gone?"

I nodded. "Gone. There must have been another door I hadn't seen."

Wyliaa searched my face intently for a few moments, seeming to study my eyes with the most interest.

"So," she concluded confidently as she sat back from me, "_zhat_ is why you are so sad."

I could only stare back at her blankly. "What?"

"You 'ave to 'elp 'er, zhis Deilia. Zhat is zhe only way your 'eart will ever rest."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "It's not that easy... I_ can't_."

"You 'ave to. You don't 'ave a choice. It is what your sister wanted of you. In 'er message. Why else would you 'ave seen 'er 'ere in zhe sands? You were _meant_ to 'elp zhis woman."

Had she not heard what I'd said? "_She_ can't even find Dr. Vil, why would I have any better luck? And he'd just as soon kill me the next time he sees me...and I wouldn't blame him."

She continued to read me like I was an open holobook, which was strangely both infuriating and relieving at the same time. "You do not believe zhat you deserve a second chance?"

"I already blew that chance. He won't give me a third."

Her eyes sparkled with a hint of a challenge. "Ah...but 'ow do you know if you do not try?"

Completely dumbfounded, I just looked at her, unable to fathom why a well-known, highly demanded, highly _ talented_ dancer was showing such interest in a worthless mercenary and his stupid struggles... "Liaa...why are you doing this? _Why_ do you care?" _You __shouldn't_, I added mentally.

Lightly running a few fingers through my hair with a coy grin, she wasn't deterred in the slightest. "Do I 'ave to 'ave a reason?"

"...most people do, yeah."

She gave a soft sigh as she dropped her hand and looked me up and down, realizing that I wasn't going to be satisfied with her usual playful answer. "Zhen it is simple," she began, taking one of my hands into hers with a kind smile. "I_ like_ you, 'Oratio. You are so...different...zhan zhe ozher men zhat I know. You are...intriguing, zhough you do not wish to be. You are...'onest, zhough you do not zhink zhat you are. You _are _worzhy of good fortune, zhough you do not zhink so.

"I 'ave known so many clients who only wish zhat zhey could be 'alf zhe man zhat you are. But you are so..._tortured_...you don't let anyone see zhat you are a good man. I _know_ zhat you are. And you can convince zhis Dr. Vil zhat you are, too. I believe zhat 'e will understand, because you are not asking 'im for a favor for you, you are asking 'im for a favor for 'er, for Deilia. And zhat...zhat is good."

She made it sound so much less complicated than it was, but I couldn't afford to be so naively idealistic. Even if I could track down Dr. Vil, entirely without access to any of my contacts or intel networks...there was no way he'd listen to anything I had to say. But the longer I looked at Liaa, the more she studied me in turn with a perceptive, expectant gaze, like she was so certain she knew me and what I would do. Her presumption did nothing but make me mad.

"Helping Deilia won't bring my sister back."

Surprised by my swift change in tone, Liaa looked almost afraid of me, and regret only soured my mood further. "No, it won't," she breathed sadly. "But...you already carry so much guilt for not being able to save 'er. 'Ow much more can you bear, 'Oratio...knowing zhat you refused to 'elp save someone else's sister?"

Great, so even _she_ knew how much my conscience was ruining my ability to remain objective. In a situation like mine, any sane person would have walked away. _Sprinted_ away. As much as my instincts were telling me to, though...I couldn't, not again. I didn't want to admit it, but Liaa was right.

She gave me a wan, wise smile. "You will do zhe right zhing. You ask, why do I say zhis? I say, because it is what you do. And because zhat is what your sister told you, zhat someone would need your help. Deilia found _you_. Zhere is no coincidence in zhat." She must have read the resignation in my body language; she leaned closely against me again and locked me in a delicate but genuine kiss I wasn't quite prepared for.

"Now," she continued softly as she slipped her hand over my shoulder, effortlessly easing my jacket off of me, "let me...put you at ease before you leave."


	8. Chapter 8

Leaving Tatooine had taken me a lot longer than I had anticipated. For some reason, Deilia had brought me there from Malastare after Tzymo had tried to dispose of me, but she left me without any transport. Not that I blame her, though. If she had refused to help me the way I had...I'd have left her, too.

I had to barter my way back to that hellhole with the small amount of credits I had strategically stashed away for myself on my previous visit. I took on a new alias, Kardo Bast, hoping, no, _relying_ on it not getting Tzymo's attention as I returned to Malastare again. Recero's message said she had left me some of her assets, but I had no idea what that meant - credits, equipment, property... Whatever it was, however much it was, I knew I would need it if I was going to get Dr. Vil to listen to me.

First, I had to find Bex.

Recero's orange-paneled astromech was nearly as crafty as she was, though whether he had been programmed that way or he had learned it from her over the years, I didn't know. The only time I'd ever encountered the droid was in Tzymo's complex the last time I'd seen Recero alive, and surely there was nothing left of it after that massive fire had consumed it. Where else would have Bex known to wait for me? In her message, Recero had given no clues as to where she'd stored her things other than that Bex had the location, but how was I supposed to get it if I had no idea where he was?

As difficult as it was, I thought back through Recero's recorded message as I took a seat in the back corner of a nearby cantina. It was full of Dugs and other rough spacers, and thankfully none of them paid me any mind. The idle background noise was just distracting enough that I didn't have to hear the emotion in Recero's voice as I listened to her words in my head once more. Even if none of Tzymo's henchmen were in that cantina and could identify me, I couldn't afford to lose myself in her message completely...

She had said she was sending her four-year-old son Aalon to live with a friend of her late husband's. I knew very little of the boy's father, except that Najin Roeken had been the Guildmaster of the Bounty Hunters' Guild before he had been killed. It suddenly seemed so perverse that Recero had entrusted her young son's care to a man who was most likely a hunter, too, rather than to me, her own brother. Would my situation be any less dangerous than raising a child while actively hunting and keeping contacts in the Guild?

I had to shake my head to rid myself of the anger I felt rising within me. Recero had made her decision based on the information she had at the time. I hadn't been there to change her mind. I had to respect her wishes.

So, other than Tzymo and his researchers, this hunter friend had probably been the last person to see Recero alive, and it was possible that he had taken Bex with him, as well. During my most recent visit to Malastare, I had noticed a number of Guild members had made a local checkpoint of another diner a few streets over. If I could figure out a way to approach one of them, I decided, maybe I could get into the Guild and find this friend of Najin's. It would take time, but it was the only plan I had that would hopefully keep me clear of any of Tzymo's residual sentries.

Even at night, Malastare was hotter than I remembered. The barren, rocky terrain this settlement was situated on absorbed the sun's heat all day long and only slowly released it in the evening, keeping the arid air as miserable as possible. Maybe my misery was partially self-induced as I walked the vacant streets, but I wouldn't have to endure it for much longer. Seeing the diner up ahead, I slowed my pace, readying myself for the attitude and demeanor I had to adopt to blend in...when a familiar electronic whistle sounded from a dark alley behind me.


	9. Chapter 9

I could only just make out his short silhouette as he hid in the shadows.

"Bex?"

Whistling again with bated excitement, he rolled forward, rapidly closing the distance between us in the street. Though the droid had practically saved my life, getting me out of Tzymo's compound without detection the first time we'd met, I was still somewhat wary of him. He had come at me with his shock arm that same day, for one thing, and I couldn't be sure that Tzymo hadn't done anything to him in the interim since Recero's death. Bex came to a stop just beside me, beeping a cautious yet still friendly tone at me as I watched him. I struggled to find my voice.

"...you know what I'm here for?"

He whistled affirmatively.

"Can you take me there?"

Another yes, and Bex rolled back toward the alley he'd been hiding in. Though uneasy, I followed, trusting that Recero had prepared her droid well. My hand hovered over my blaster holstered at my side as we made our way down the narrow path, anxiously watching up ahead and behind in anticipation of an ambush. Bex didn't seem to care, though, casually rolling along as he deftly avoided trash and debris in his way. He'd navigated the passage many times before, that much was clear; just how long had he been there waiting by that diner for me?

After a number of zigzags through the city, he rolled up to a rather large structure, much larger than I had expected. Turning his scomp link in the control console beside the very wide, very tall door, Bex gave a shrill, whistling laugh at me as I jumped, startled by the sudden noise. The heavy door cracked and moaned loudly as it lumbered apart on its tracks, revealing a moderately sized hangar...and a Skipray Blastboat that looked to be in pristine condition sitting inside it.

I stared at the ship for a few moments, in too much shock to even breathe. It wasn't until Bex rolled inside and almost disappeared behind it that I followed him in, and again, it took me a full minute to get my voice back.

"She left this...for me?"

A light, affirmative whistle echoed back to me along with a strange scraping noise. Looking over at the sound, I saw Bex shoving a waist-high cargo container along the ground toward me. It sounded full and heavy, so I met him halfway, saving him the trouble. He rolled back from it and seemed to wait expectantly for me to open it, and curious, I obliged.

A pair of full bacta canisters were mixed in with a half dozen blaster rifles and pistols, all mismatched models. The gift seemed odd as I looked them all over, until I realized...the blasters were relics, representing the few moments from our past where our paths had crossed. A Mandalorian flashpistol replica, the reason we'd first met as twelve-year-old kids on Coruscant, a high-powered sniper rifle that nearly assassinated Recero on Tatooine but wounded me instead...

Overwhelmed with memories, I slammed the lid shut, bracing myself on its edges as I shook. I was usually good at keeping my emotions in check around other people, but with Bex as my only company, it was a long time before I could breathe normally again.

Part of me wanted to leave the crate and the ship, and run, knowing they'd only serve as constant reminders of the fact that I'd failed her, unable to help her. But regardless of that, her last act had been to help me, freely giving me these things she knew I'd have a use for. Denying her final generosity would be an insult to her memory, so I knew I had to take them. Maybe the pain and guilt would ease with time.

Bex had stayed in place behind the crate, patiently waiting out my reaction in silence. I swallowed hard to still any lingering trembling from my voice.

"Were you with her...at the end?"

He gave a slow, sadly affirmative whistle, and before I could ask another question, he extended one of his manipulator arms out to me, holding a credit chip. Another gift? I managed to weakly nod my thanks as I took it from him, not caring about the amount it carried. He retracted his arm but again remained silent, seeming to wait for something from me. I wasn't sure what, though.

"You're not part of all this for me, are you?"

The first negative answer, Bex swiveled his dome back and forth. I figured as much. "You have to stay here with the rest of her things. For her boys."

Another affirmative, and he began to roll away, heading toward the hangar's entrance at his usual pace. I watched him for a few moments, but I couldn't let him go without something...

"Bex."

Slowing to a halt, he turned his dome back toward me.

"Thank you."

I felt somewhat absurd expressing gratitude to a bucket of grease that had been programmed to obey its owner, but the orange-paneled astromech had been Recero's best friend for the last four years of her life, maybe longer. He had done for her what I couldn't, and even after her passing, he still carried out her wishes. For that, I could only be grateful.

Bex gave a few last appreciative chirps before he rolled outside and vanished into the dark Malastare night.


	10. Chapter 10

Though I wasn't surprised, the Skipray flew well, better than many of the rickety ships I'd flown in my recent past. She was well armored and well armed, and her engines and hyperdrive sounded nearly brand new. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought her straight out of the fleet yard, but how would Recero have been able to afford it? She hadn't taken a bounty in years...

Shaking the thought from my head, I studied the readout on my screen. I'd be ready to leave hyperspace in a few minutes, arriving at Clak'Dor VII's front doorstep. It was a gamble, searching for Dr. Vil on his homeworld, but where else would a Bith blend in with so many of his own kind? Vil knew better than to return to Agamar, where he had founded a decent research lab and had cared for the ailing Koril Rys'tihn, curing him of the Huxnel virus several years ago. He also knew to steer clear of anywhere he thought I'd possibly turn up, and that included a lot of familiar places.

At least, it used to.

Cleared for passage into the capital city of Weogar, I wasn't sure what kind of reception I'd be getting. The Bith mostly kept to themselves, except for those who left the planet, so I knew I'd have to be as unobtrusive as possible if I was going to find Dr. Vil, however long that took.

Getting temporary housing and a hangar to rent was easy enough, but before I realized it, I spent _months_ watching the city's hospitals and labs, and to no avail. Nobody I talked to seemed to know the name Vil, leading me to believe the good doctor had either taken up residence somewhere else or had changed his name entirely. In any case, I felt the weight of wasted time burying me in anxiety the more days I spent researching, hunting, questioning without any progress. Though I had no idea how quickly Deilia's disease was advancing, I knew I wasn't doing her any good waiting for nothing.

Having made the decision to leave Clak'Dor VII and continue my search elsewhere, I stopped for one last late night meal at a tapcafe on the outskirts of the domed city. From where I sat, I could see the main medical center, the lone towering building in the brightly lit central district, taunting me with false hope. I almost changed my mind as I studied it, wondering if there was something I'd missed, a lead that I should've followed more closely, but focused outside, I almost missed a familiar face walking past me instead. By the time I recognized him, he had already stepped out into the street, and it took me another minute to gather myself well enough to follow him.

I kept my distance for what felt like a kilometer to avoid suspicion, but when he turned down a narrow, darker row of small offices, I caught up to him just as he reached for a control panel beside an unmarked door.

"Nimier?"

Dr. Vil's human assistant turned at the sound of his name, but he hadn't immediately recognized my voice, giving me a split-second advantage. Making as little noise as possible, I pushed him back against the wall and covered his mouth before he could call for help, just in time for him to see who I was. His eyes widened as he froze in terror, not even struggling against my grip. Somewhat surprised at his reaction myself, I watched him for a moment before I continued.

"Nimier, I just...want to talk," I explained calmly. "You're going to listen. I need to find Dr. Vil, so he can - "

Reflexively, Nimier's gaze briefly tracked to the side at the door he had just been reaching to open. He realized his error immediately, but it was too late. I'd already seen it.

"Dr. Vil is here," I stated blankly, in utter disbelief of my luck. "In this office."

Nimier's face had gone completely white. The man had probably never lied in his life, and the expression in his eyes told me he wasn't about to try it with me. At least my reputation was still intact.

"You're going to let me inside," I told him, making it a command rather than a question. Nimier somehow managed to nod despite my forceful hold over his mouth, and slowly releasing my grip, I held a pointed finger in his face in case he decided to make a scene. Thankfully he remained silent, only swallowing hard before he found his voice.

"Just, p-please...don't kill me..."

Unexpected. I had hardly taken another breath to answer him when a familiar voice suddenly spoke up beside us.

"I won't give him the chance!"

I turned to look, but I only saw something large being swung at me, striking me hard at my temple before I could react. I didn't even feel my body hit the ground.


	11. Chapter 11

"How _dare_ you show your face here."

Dr. Vil's voice was a lot angrier than I thought it'd be. Of course, it could have been the fault of my severe concussion making his words sound that much more fierce. I was fairly certain he had cracked my skull with whatever he had used to hit me, which was a bit of an overreaction, I thought. It took me some time to even open my eyes as they watered in protest, and finally able to orient myself, I discovered I was sitting against a wall with my hands bound behind my back. Dr. Vil stood before me, training my own blaster down on me like I was going to bolt up and attack him.

"Give me one good reason why I should let you live."

Without any facial expression to read on the Bith, I was still able to hear the intensity in his tone, though it was suddenly a bit muddled as the room spun around me. I had to concentrate on steadying my breathing to slow my rising nausea before I could answer him.

"You're a doctor," I managed gruffly. "A good one. You heal people... You don't kill."

Vil didn't miss a beat. "You don't seem to have any problem with it, why should I?"

I could understand his logic to a point, save for the fact that I _hadn't_ actually killed anyone he knew...

"Doc...it was never my intention...to kill Koril - "

"You certainly gave it your best effort."

I deserved his frustration, I knew, but he hadn't heard my explanation yet. "Listen, I know I stole it from you, and I'm sorry...I had to. But I wasn't going to make Koril pay for my sins. I gave him half of the antidote before I left Agamar."

Vil's hand holding my blaster twitched the slightest bit. "I can't trust anything you say. Not anymore."

I began to nod, but I instantly regretted it. "I know," I breathed through clenched teeth, struggling with sharp pain at my temple. "You don't have to. You know he was starting to get better...before you gave him the new antidote."

If Bith had eyelids, Vil would have blinked. Instead, he simply stared at me, at least...I think he was. I couldn't tell what his large black eyes were focused on, but he hadn't moved a muscle, even to breathe. He knew I was telling him the truth.

"I'm not trying to excuse what I did," I continued, finding my strength waning the more I confessed, "but I had to take the Huxnel virus and the antidote so I could barter with Jack Tzymo...for information he had on my sister I hadn't seen in years."

Though it intensified the piercing, pulsing pain above my eye, I hung my head. I even surprised myself with the amount of emotion in my voice. "Lot of good it did me... I got to see her _one_ last time before she died, about a year ago. Some disease she caught on Ambria slowly killed her, and Tzymo couldn't figure it out in time." Looking back up at Vil, I hadn't expected to see him lower his aim on me. "I came to you because someone else needs your help...someone I owe a debt to. She has the same disease, and I refuse to send her to Tzymo."

Again, Vil remained perfectly still, to the point I thought he might pass out from the lack of oxygen.

"You want me...to help someone else...as a favor to _you_?"

Well, of course it sounded absurd when he put it that way. In my foggy haze, I found it unusually difficult to disagree with his rewording. I couldn't think of any different way to explain it.

"Even if wanted to," Vil responded with a suddenly hard edge to his voice, "just how exactly do you expect me to do any kind of good for your friend? I had to abandon my lab on Agamar after your spectacular exit. I haven't done any research in years. I have no lab, no equipment, no resources...and you're asking me to just drop everything and cure this person of...something...out of nothing?"

My eyes weren't focusing any longer, but I forced them to. "After my sister's death, Tzymo tried to get rid of me. My friend," if I could even call her that, I thought, "saved me from my fate, because she knew that you would be her best chance at beating her illness. She needed me to find you. She has a copy of Tzymo's research, what he wasn't able to finish with my sister. You won't be starting from scratch. Whatever equipment you need...I will supply it."

The doc's head must've been spinning.

"Really. _You_ have the credits to fund a lab?"

I nodded. "Everything my sister left me...it's yours."

With a sad sigh, Vil shook his head. "You are something else, Horatio."

"I was about to leave the planet when I ran into Nimier," I answered, not expecting to sound so...desperate and breathless. My headache was only getting worse. "_Everything _I have...is on my ship. You can leave me here and go check it yourself." Feeling even more lightheaded, I rested my head against the wall behind me. "I'm not going anywhere...for a while..."

My eyes closed heavily, and I must have blacked out for a long while; when I was able to open them again, I wasn't expecting to see Dr. Vil knelt beside me...or that my wrists would be free of their earlier binders. My head was still throbbing, but the sharp, piercing pain was gone. And did I smell bacta?

"Just when I think I've got you figured out."

Did he need more convincing? "Look...don't think of it as a favor for me. If you can figure out a cure for this, you'll prove that you're a better, smarter scientist than Tzymo."

"Honestly, Horatio, a play to my ego? It's like you've never worked me over before."

"So...you'll do it?"

He didn't agree, but he didn't immediately say no, either. "Your friend. Where is she?"

"I don't know." I couldn't answer any other way, unless... "But I think I know how I can find her."


	12. Chapter 12

Where it all began is where it was all going to end for me.

"Charming," Dr. Vil interrupted my concentration with his dry sarcasm. "Do you bring all your assets here to put them at ease?"

"Commentary is not needed at this time, Doc," I answered quietly, not breaking my gaze on a door a half kilometer away from around a corner. "Do I have to remind you that our goal right now is stealth?"

Standing behind me in the narrow alley we were hiding in, Vil scoffed. "Stealth? There's _no one_ here."

He wasn't wrong. This particular neighborhood in Coruscant's Underlevels was surprisingly vacant for a cityplanet that housed a trillion beings. Filthy, falling apart, just like every other square block, but we were certainly its only occupants. Still, I knew better than to approach the compound belonging to a Paneau covert agent, if it even was one. At this point, I was only going off a hunch, but something told me it was going to pay off. I just didn't know how much longer I could stand the wait.

Anxious, I scratched at the scar slowly healing on my forehead from Dr. Vil's blow. I still suffered with a headache daily, but at least the doc had the decency to heal the crack in my skull that he had caused over a week ago. Not that I didn't deserve it, but he could have at least chosen a less permanent method of injury...

Finally spotting movement ahead, I watched as the door opened and two people stepped out into the street, a man and a young girl, headed our way. Immediately, I knew who they were; my hunch had been correct, and we were in the right place.

"Wait... Is that...?"

I hadn't expected Dr. Vil to spot them. I turned my head back to him, holding my hand up to silence him. It didn't work.

"You didn't tell me - "

I kept my voice quiet but intense to get my point across. "He _cannot_ know we're here."

Finally nodding with understanding, Vil remained silent, watching as the other two continued down the alley and disappeared. Eventually the roar of engines filled the street, and within a few minutes, the familiar Rys'tihn yacht, the _Celestia,_ took off and returned to space. When it quieted, I looked to Vil once more.

"...is it one of them?"

I assumed "them" to mean the Natiyrs and Rys'tihns he knew. I could only sigh in response; he'd find out soon enough.

With her company hopefully gone, I left the alley and slowly made my way toward the door I had been watching. Thankfully Vil kept closely on my heels, and I stayed on high alert for any surprises. I didn't have any choice but to show up unannounced, and I was fairly certain none of them appreciated that.

Surprising me, the door opened just as I reached for it, revealing an older woman who, though somewhat familiar, was already training a blaster on me.

"You," she accused darkly in a Coruscanti accent. "You have a _lot_ of nerve coming here."

Just eager to get it over with, I grumbled right back. "Are you going to threaten to kill me, too? You people need to come up with some new lines."

Her eyes narrowed, but she maintained her aim. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to see Deilia." I could tell the woman was about to play ignorant, so I stopped her before she could start. "Look, I _know_ she's here. She asked for my help, and I'm here to give it."

Though she was about to protest further, she glanced behind me, apparently noticing Dr. Vil for the first time. The realization on her face was somewhat strange to see; she recognized Vil? Without another word, she stepped aside and invited us in, holstering her blaster at her side.

And instantly, I was transported back to Malastare more than three years ago.

The same chill that had frozen my breath in front of my face that last time I had seen Recero alive now threw shards of ice through my veins and left me nearly paralyzed.

In the same state, Deilia lay nearly motionless under a heavy blanket, looking as gaunt and frail as I remembered my sister being. If it wasn't for her short, spiky black hair, I would have thought her an illusion, a perverse memory playing out in front of me again...

"Horatio?"

She had lifted her head from her pillow to look at me, and blinking myself out of my stupor, I nodded, buying myself time to regain my composure.

"I found Dr. Vil. He's agreed to help you." I motioned him forward. "Dr. Vil, meet Deilia Rys'tihn... Koril's sister."

Of course, there wasn't any expression to read on the Bith's face, but I knew he wasn't expecting to hear that. Though he hesitated a moment before he approached her, the relief in her expression was almost too much for me to take...

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Rys'tihn," Vil greeted her kindly, lowering himself onto one knee to her eye level. "I'm Dr. Gorlin Vil, I hear you've fallen ill..."

Overwhelmed again, I ran a hand through my hair as I walked away, leaving them to talk. Once again, I felt myself itching to run, but I was also fighting the urge with all the willpower I had left. Though the circumstances and reasons were different each time, I had been running my whole life, but Recero had always been the anchor I had come back to. Without her, I had this one last mission, one final debt to repay, and then...what?

Though it had to have been at least ten minutes before I noticed the older woman standing beside me, I had no idea how long she had been there. Her gaze was intense, studying me silently like a puzzle she couldn't fit the pieces together for. I studied her in turn, trying to figure out why she looked so familiar.

"Why?" she asked me simply. It wasn't fair that such a loaded question was so easy for her to ask.

I released a slow breath, answering as basically as I could. "Because I owe her. A life for a life."

The woman searched my face, not believing me. "But you already paid that debt. Her brother is alive today because of you."

I could feel my voice shaking as I looked down. "It's not enough."

Meeting her gaze again, I wasn't expecting to see sympathy in her eyes. "I am familiar with the events of that night on Hoth... What happened to Jaala was not your fault - "

"Have you ever been the reason that someone died?"

While she was somewhat surprised by my darker tone, her sympathy remained. "Yes... Actually, I have."

"Then you know that nothing you do to make up for it changes anything. None of your efforts mean anything."

Silenced for a few long moments, she glanced back at Deilia, softening her voice with a light breath. "It means a great deal to her little boy."

I clenched my jaw hard as our gazes met once more, but an unspoken understanding between us relaxed my anxiety. I didn't even have to say anything as she gave me permission to leave with a slow nod. I took one last look at Dr. Vil with Deilia, and since they were so engrossed in conversation, I was pretty sure they wouldn't notice me as I left, and that was the way I preferred it.

I had fulfilled my promise to my sister, I had gotten Deilia the help she needed, and I was done with anything having to do with Paneau, its inhabitants, and its friends. I returned to the streets of the Underlevels, where I had grown up as an orphan, unsure where my path was taking me next. The only thing I knew was that for the first time in my life...I wasn't running any longer.


End file.
